I hafts the dram

Oh flood

My town

Your boat is my dream

Profiteers away!

 I write

The wrongs 

I sight

Songs

Of Bobby Hebb

Thank you for the love

 Proust said

But who read that?

Did you?

 The ice nine dream

A Vonnegut

Told a story

Of the end

But we're all here

 Some walked

The Jabberwolk

Some strolled

Some fold

Some call yr bet

 U could be

The sweet lemon custard donut

U could be

A maple old fashioned

U are

  (Don't be an anemone in the sea)

I lived in Peru

 U lived in Peru

   We all lived in Peru

      Reality is relative

         Was any of this here?

Oh give me a break!

 Don't be an asshole

Easier said than done

When confronted with reality

But in the end who gives a fuck?

Everybody.

 Clean

The righteous 

Own God

He is their Everything

We are nothing

 An erudite

Placenta

Drove 

Toward Malibu 

Fuck the poor he said

As his tire went off the road

He was found in a Calvin Klein shirt

An anemone on his face

 The affluent

Drove a new

Shit turd every year

With blond dyed hair job

And cheap shitty croissants 

In a paper bag

 Please

Let the voicemails begin!

Somewhere near Indiana 

We're calling...

 A dream

Could not 

Wary

The fragment

Of turpitude 

Or a bileous 

Moventous 

Decrepitude 

 A hardened Seminole 

Was not embraced

By an alligator

Or relived in a tuxedo

By the centric cosmonauts of tomorrow 

 There was an excursion of fiddles

They took the school bus as a group

They were excited to be out of that over heated school

They saw a bunch of sculptures by Rodin

But the best thing was when that girl fiddle lit her skirt on fire

That was weird

 I once had a Blofedt friend

I didn't know James Bond at the time

He was called something else

I think it was Timmy or maybe Jim Jim

Something like that

He wasn't very good at reading

But he excelled at Jai-lai

I had no idea what it was.

 I once knew some elves

They'd cleared a circle in the forest

And I found a felt hat

They weren't happy about that

They stole into our house while I was in California

And took the hat 

But I did get my basketball 

And that's all I really cared about

 Those days are done

Normal is anything but

Try to turn a knob

You'll need a 4 3/8 hat made of baryllium

A diet of laundered meat

And strychnine beef

Several caps to "pop in the ass"

A modicum of Hosteds Cherry Pies

And blacktop roads from here to there

 

 Green Vikings on another planet

A cask of mead and an axe

Was all Bjorn Bjornson needed

To decapitate the alien Wurm

"Fucking gross"

He said covered in green slimey alien blood

Across a broken Moon face

Don't expostulate

Like a worm

In the skull of a ram

Wait what?

The triads were simpatico 

Yeah don't fucking do that 

Are you hungry?